But anyway, at one point while the three of us were standing in the hallway outside our son’s dorm room, I couldn’t help but notice a handful of doors down there were a couple of guys chatting it up. His dorm is entirely freshman, so it’s safe to assume these two lads were also first-year students.
One of them clearly had just come back from showering as his hair was wet and most obviously, he was wearing only a towel wrapped around his lower body. His shirtless upper body was a sight to be seen though as he was gorgeous. He had the look of an athlete, with both a large frame and a toned muscular look, and despite being less than half my age, he triggered a feeling of lust in me that I hadn’t felt in forever.
The friend he was chatting with was fully dressed though, and this other boy must’ve said something quite entertaining as it caused the towel boy to start laughing uncontrollably. Neither Greg nor our son could see the two of them while all of this was going on, but whatever the joke was, it was enough to cause this adorable half-naked man-child to momentarily lose the tight wrap of his towel, and then force him to readjust while holding on using only his left hand. He then proceeded to bring his right hand up to his mouth and stick out his tongue between his two fingers and wag it around in what I’m pretty sure has always been the universal sign of adolescent boys for licking a vagina.
It was crude, immature, and a stark reminder of exactly the demographic a male freshman dorm is expected to have. And I was fascinated by it all. The scene, the boy, the fact that he was struggling to not expose himself while simulating oral sex all while people he didn’t know were within view. The immaturity mixed with the hormones and the pervertedness, the combination of it all could not possibly have been more in contrast with the man my husband is. It was the exact opposite of what my life had become, and for the next few days, despite being such a brief moment in time, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
And that all leads me back to where I am right now. A normal woman on her first night of separation would probably look to meet up with her friends at a bar or fancy club and enjoy a night out on the town. But clearly I’m not normal. Case in point, I haven’t even shared the news that Greg moved out with any of my friends yet! I had all day to text them, but instead I spent pretty much my entire working day daydreaming about that boy in the towel. Obsessing not just about the way he looked, but about him pretending to lick a vagina. Imagining him licking my vagina. I had spent the last couple of weeks with this random, nameless, teenager in the back of my mind, but with everything coming to fruition this morning with Greg, he was basically the only thing I could think about the entire day.
And believe me, I know how weird that is. Why do you think I didn’t text any of my friends the news? It’s because I know that if I told them Greg and I had finally separated, it would become a whole thing. Either they’d come over, or we’d meet up, or something would happen where I wasn’t alone. And I clearly don’t want that. The only thing I wanted to do tonight is to find that kid in the towel, and the last thing I need is my friends around because I’d be mortified if they ever found that out.
Now as insane as I am acting right now, I haven’t lost all concept of reality and consequences. I realize that I can’t go fuck someone who lives in the same dorm as my son. I just can’t. I also know that my fantasy isn’t really about that one specific towel boy, as I barely got a glimpse of him and don’t even know so much as his name.
No, instead my desire here is much broader, and it’s much simpler. I just want someone young, horny, and unabashedly heterosexual to want me. You’ll notice I didn’t even include the word ‘attractive’ in there. Sure, it be great if he’s gorgeous and fit, but tonight it’s much more important that this mystery boy finds me attractive. In fact that’s the most important thing of all. I want someone to want me so badly, that fucking me becomes the only thing in the world they care about.
And so we’re back to obvious cliches, but what better place to find someone like that than in a college freshman dorm? And with that, I open my driver side door and step out into the beautiful autumn early evening air. I take a moment to check the simple black camisole I’m wearing, and despite having worn it to work, it’s perfectly clean and loosely flowing in the modest but warm breeze. I purposefully didn’t get all dolled up before coming here, mainly because it wouldn’t fit with the backstory I started concocting earlier today while contemplating whether I should go through with all
of this. Anyway, to go along with my spaghetti strap top, I’m wearing my favorite pair of jeans, and then a pair of comfy, black Tkee sandals. So needless to say, it’s a very casual outfit.
Now one of the reasons these jeans I’m wearing are my absolute favorite pair, is I think they do a bang up job of showing off the five hours of yoga and other core exercises I meticulously do every week. In other words, they make my butt look great. Ironically, as my sex life became more and more non-existent these past few years, my physical fitness was actually hitting an all-time high. It initially started during the onset of covid, when I signed up for some yoga classes over zoom. But from there I started doing a number of exercises like squats, planks, bridges, and thrusts, and now I’m at the point where I couldn’t imagine not having this workout routine.
When I first started exercising, I certainly wasn’t consciously thinking about how it would be important to look attractive in case Greg and I ever split up. The decision to start working out was mainly about my health, with a side benefit of helping with the boredom of the lockdown. But in the last twelve months, there’s no doubt that I’ve been thinking more and more about how this separation was only a matter of time, and that’s definitely motivated me to maintain my routine so I can keep looking as good as I possibly can. And while I’m generally a pretty modest person, I have to admit it’s worked. My stomach has never been flatter, and perhaps most importantly of all, my arms look amazing, which for whatever reason has always been the part of my body I’m most paranoid about.
But anyway, it’s time to do this, so I take a deep breath and start walking towards the main entrance of this circa 1970s building. While I honestly don’t have much of a plan here, one thing that helps a little bit is the fact that the three of us (Greg, myself, and our son) did take a tour of this school last spring, so I have some idea of the dorm situation. It still doesn’t make me any less of a crazy person for doing this, but honestly part of the reason I want to try to fuck a college kid tonight is specifically because it’s crazy. It’s like the insanity of it all is part of the appeal.
I was a little worried the entrance to the dorm would be locked, but a couple of girls walking out were nice enough to hold the door for me, letting me in without an issue. The dorm has a very basic lobby area, and from here I can see three different hallways to go down as well as a stairwell to the higher floors. Taking a glance down each path, everything seems pretty quiet, but I do hear a few students and can see a number of doors propped open. So I start walking down one of the halls.
Most of the rooms with open doors have people inside, but I do my best not to make it too obvious that I’m trying to look into each one. A number of the rooms have music playing, but it’s mostly quiet. To be honest, I don’t even know who or what I’m looking for here, but I guess I’ll know it when I see it?
I get to the end of a hallway and there’s a back stairwell there, so I take it up to the second floor and start retracing my steps on this new floor. As I turn a corner, I can see down the hall there’s a fair amount of activity. Multiple doors appear to be open and a few boys are milling around. As I start walking towards them, I see one boy in particular notice me, and we definitely make eye contact. It’s more than just a passing glance though, and now I’m a little worried that I know him, or more precisely that he knows me?
As I get closer, I’m wracking my brain trying to see if he looks familiar in any way. Now remember, my son grew up and went to high school a little over half an hour from here, and these boys are his exact age, so it’s totally possible it’s someone he knows or I know. But as far as I can tell, I’ve never seen this kid before in my life.
But I’ll tell you one thing, he’s devilishly handsome. He definitely has kind of a rich, frat boy look to him, but he’s also adorable. He’s wearing fitted khaki shorts and what I think is a Balmain shirt that must cost more than my entire outfit. As I finally reach the point in the hallway where he’s standing, I deliberately slow my pace, turn my head and smile.
Adorable Boy (while smiling back): “Can I help you with something?”
Me: “You know what? Maybe you can.”
Adorable Boy: “It would be my pleasure. My name is Chris by the way.”
And then he offers his hand out. We shake and both lock eyes while simultaneously grinning at one another. It’s clear there’s something going on here, but I have no idea what. Could he possibly be flirting with me? Or is it that he actually does recognize me? Or maybe it’s neither of those and he’s just a super friendly person?
Me (breaking out my fake name): “I’m Becca.”
Chris: “How’s it going, Becca? Now what can I help you with? I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you’re looking for someone?”
Me: “Yep. But I’m also kind of lost? I’m looking for Room 2620, but I can’t seem to find it.”
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